


if there's solid ground below

by achilleees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime glared and straightened his back. “You heard what he said! Who would you rather wed - Stannis, so handsome and gallant? Edmure, known for his brilliance and wit?” He snorted. “At least Willas is intelligent.”</p>
<p>a collection of scenes from the married life of cersei lannister and willas tyrell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if there's solid ground below

**Author's Note:**

> so i wasn't going to post this because it's not... actually finished (the pacing is all off and it's more a collection of scenes than a smoothly flowing story) but someone on tumblr requested it and HELL WHY NOT
> 
> canon-divergent notes: willas and garlan might be a bit older than the canon, i can't keep track of their ages anyway - willas is 14 to start and cersei is 18 (they don't actually get married for a few years until after willas hits the age of majority fyi); elia survives the sack of king's landing; jaime injures willas instead of oberyn.
> 
> i'm on tumblr [here](http://achilleees.tumblr.com/) but i don't actually post too much game of thrones stuff, i guess i'm just getting into the fandom. i write a lot (A LOT) of fluffy&bantery&vaguely-ooc cersei-centric fics (mostly aus and canon divergent robert's rebellion fics) so if you want to request anything, i'm aaaalways open to suggestions.
> 
> title from celine dion's "taking chances" hehehehe.

Jaime found his sister seated outside the small council room. He would have knelt in front of her, but his heavy armor prevented him from it. “What’s going on?”

The glare she leveled him with would have stripped the bark off a tree.

“It was an accident,” Jaime said for the ninth time. “Tell me, is there news?”

She tossed her hair.

Jaime rolled his eyes. If that was how it would be, so be it. He took out his sharpening stone and busied himself sharpening his dagger, both to occupy his hands and because he knew the sound irritated her.

He glanced up from under his eyelashes and saw that vein ticking in her neck. Not long before she snapped.

But just before the inevitable breaking point, the door to the council room opened and Mace Tyrell, Grand Maester Pycelle, and King Robert himself left. Jaime bowed deeply to King Robert, who graced him with an uneasy smile, and didn’t look at Cersei at all.

Jaime winced.

“Send them in,” he heard from inside, and Varys exited as well, gesturing for Jaime and Cersei to enter.

Jaime was only halfway to standing by the time Cersei had swept inside.

“Father,” Cersei said, taking the seat next to Tywin and leaning forward, hands clasped over the table. “Tell me, what did Mace Tyrell want?”

Tywin scarcely glanced at her. “Sit,” he said to Jaime, icy cold.

“Yes, father,” Jaime said, sinking to the other seat next to Tywin.

“Your… mistake has cost us,” Tywin said. “That great fat fool leapt at a chance to strengthen the standing of his house. Ever since he chose the wrong side against Aerys, he’s grasping for allies, and now look, the perfect chance falls into his lap.” He sneered at Jaime.

Jaime dropped his head. “It was an accident,” he said. “Willas bears me no ill will.”

Tywin didn’t bother responding. “Well, we have come to an agreement at last.”

“Tyrion and Margaery?” Jaime said, hoping, _hoping_.

Tywin closed his eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience. “Cersei and Willas.”

Jaime’s gut dropped.

“Father!” Cersei said. “You would wed me to that… cripple?”

“The boy was hale and whole as of yesterday,” Tywin said. “By all accounts, he is not half the nitwit that his father is.”

“It is not such a bad match, is it?” Jaime ventured. “Who better? Lord Eddard is wed, King Robert is wed, Cersei would slit the throat of Balon Greyjoy if you sought to make that match…”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed.

“Prince Doran is wed,” Jaime said.

“Oh, shut up,” Cersei said.

“Mace Tyrell is a great fool,” Tywin said. “It does not please me to wed my daughter into his house, under the thumb of that witch of a mother. I was in talks with Lord Stannis -”

Cersei made a stifled sound of contempt.

“And Lord Hoster, regarding his son Edmure -”

This time it was Jaime who couldn’t contain his scorn.

“But I suppose I will need halt those conversations.” Tywin glowered at Jaime.

“There are worse houses to have in hand than Tyrell,” Jaime said. He flushed, looking down. “It was an accident, besides.”

Tywin scoffed. “Are you as ill from saying that as I am of hearing it? Leave my presence. You know your duties, both of you.”

Jaime did not think he was wrong to assume this was another veiled hint for him to shed his white cloak. He stood and bowed. “My Lord,” he said.

“Father,” Cersei said.

“Leave,” Tywin said, and though his voice did not rise, it was formidable all the same.

Cersei gathered her skirts and darted out. Jaime followed close on her heels.

“Cersei!” Jaime said. “Are you truly so wroth with me? It was -”

“An accident, I know,” she said, spinning towards him. “Father is right, I may be sick if I hear that damnable phrase one more time.”

Jaime glared and straightened his back. “You heard what he said! Who would you rather wed - Stannis, so handsome and gallant? Edmure, known for his brilliance and wit?” He snorted. “At least Willas is intelligent.”

“He’s a child,” Cersei spat.

“Children grow,” Jaime said.

“And a cripple,” Cersei said.

Jaime worked his jaw.

“We could have figured something out, Jaime,” Cersei said. “I could have found a way to stay in King’s Landing. Father would have -“

“Don’t say it,” Jaime said quickly. They were in public. They both knew what crimes their father would have committed, but Jaime wore a white cloak. The words would be treason.

“We could have figured something out,” Cersei repeated quietly. “But now my fate is sealed.”

Jaime swallowed. “There will be years before he is old enough to be wed.”

“Two years,” Cersei said.

“Perhaps father will… figure something out,” he said, borrowing her words.

“I hope so,” Cersei said. She pressed her lips together. “For both our sakes.”

 

* * *

 

On the day of his wedding, Grandmother called Willas into her solar.

“Be a dear and shut the door, would you?” Olenna said, sitting on her windowsill with her feet tucked under her. “And bring your grandmother some of those almonds, you know I like those.”

“Grandmother, I -” Willas said, glancing at the position of the sun outside her window. He was half dressed when she called, and his buttons were askew.

She tutted, silencing him.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Willas said, bringing the bowl of almonds from her desk.

“Your wife to be,” Olenna said. “What do you know of her?”

Willas raised his eyebrows. “I know she is beautiful,” he said slowly.

“Yes, and…?”

Willas shrugged his shoulders.

Olenna smacked the side of his head. “I know you better than that, boy. Out with it.”

Rubbing his head, Willas said, “I know she is vain. Proud. Her father’s daughter, though…” He hesitated.

“Though with half his cunning and twice his impatience,” Olenna said, satisfied. “Very good. And your dolt of a father has done you the disservice of pairing you with her, the Seven know why.”

“It is not a bad match,” Willas said. “It will be good to have the Lannisters as allies.”

Olenna sniffed. “I will trust them no more with that lioness in your bed than Aerys should have when Tywin came knocking at his gates. I can only hope Tywin doesn’t see a use in his daughter after all and murder you to get her back under his control.”

“Grandmother!” Willas said.

“Oh, don’t take that shocked tone with me, we both know you’re thinking the same thing,” Olenna said. “Unless the girl’s beauty has robbed you of your wits after all.” She looked at him shrewdly.

“I don’t even know what she looks like,” Willas said. “I haven’t seen her face in three years, and -”

“Oh, the Gods, it has,” Olenna muttered. “And I thought you were smart, boy.” She clicked her tongue.

Willas rolled his eyes. “Her beauty has not _robbed me of my wits_. I will be on guard with her. I will not trust her with my secrets. But I will be kind to her. Can I at least do that, Grandmother?”

“I think you had better,” Olenna said. “If you treated her with anything less than total adoration, she might gut you herself.”

Willas smiled. “She is not that bad. She is said to be the soul of charm and grace - when her brother is around.”

“Yes, well, that is another issue entirely,” Olenna said with another sniff. “It will do Tywin good to separate them, though it may be too late for that now.” She wagged her finger at him. “I would suggest not spilling inside her tonight, boy, or for another two months after. I would like no questions about the legitimacy of -”

“I’m going now, Grandmother,” Willas said, standing up.

“I mean it!” She grabbed his ear. “If you were intelligent at all, you would listen to me. That Lannister boy is trouble.”

“You are so suspicious,” Willas said. When she looked apt to burst into another tirade, he raised his hands in pacification. “I will heed your words.”

“And do you promise not to spill inside her for-”

“I am going now!” Willas said, laughing as he left.

 

* * *

 

Willas found Garlan outside with Margaery, the two of them skipping rocks in the pond. Margaery clapped and giggled whenever Garlan skipped one across the length of the water.

“Are you well, Brother?” Garlan asked when he saw Willas’ face. “You look ill.”

“I am well,” Willas said slowly - though in truth he felt rather cold.

Garlan frowned, following absently after Margaery as she toddled into the water until it was up to her knees. He held her hand. “Tell me what ails you. I know you well enough to see that much, at least.”

“It’s Cersei,” Willas said quietly, glancing around. “I worry…”

Garlan gestured for him to continue.

“On our wedding day, Grandmother warned me not to…” Willas blushed. “Er, spill inside of Cersei.”

Garlan blushed as well. “Oh?”

“She questions how close the Lannister twins are,” Willas said. “She said I should wait a few months so that I could be sure of the legitimacy of my children, if Cersei…”

“I see,” Garlan said. “Don’t you think that’s a little…?”

“I did think so,” Willas said. “I thought so, but then on our wedding night, I asked her about him, and she was very… complimentary. Effusively complimentary. And I thought, well. I wouldn’t mind waiting a few months to have a child.”

“But?” Garlan said.

“But last night, as I made to pull out, she, ah, wrapped her legs around me, and, um…” Willas could feel his blush mounting. “Scratched my back, and cried out my name, and…”

Garlan stared, mouth open.

“I couldn’t help it,” Willas said, quiet and choked. “It was so…” He rubbed his face with both hands.

“I don’t blame you,” Garlan said, sounding strangled. “By the Seven.”

“And now I think Grandmother may have been right,” Willas said. “After all, on the chance that Cersei and Jaime are…”

Garlan nodded.

“And he put a babe in her belly in the week before our wedding, now its parentage will be sufficiently masked by…” Willas gestured loosely. “And I will never know.”

“Grandmother could have been wrong,” Garlan pointed out. “Perhaps Cersei was just, ah, enjoying herself, and she and Jaime are merely close.” He scooped Margaery out of the water, where she had fallen in as she leaned over for a rock.

“Or Grandmother could be right,” Willas said. “And now that I have the idea planted in my head…”

Garlan chewed his lip. “And if she doesn’t have a babe in nine months?” he said gently. “If neither yours nor Jaime’s - hypothetical! - seed was planted?”

“The idea will still haunt me,” Willas mumbled.

Garlan sighed. “Cersei did not know you before this. She had scarcely said two words to you before your wedding.” He shuffled his feet. “There is always the chance that she loved another man before you - be it Jaime or another, perhaps a vassal of her house. Just as there is the chance that my own future wife, whoever she may be, is even now consorting with another man.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Do you see what I am saying?”

“Yes,” Willas said, smiling at Margaery, now dripping from head to foot with water. “It matters not who she was or who she loved. All that matters is that she is a good wife to me now.”

Garlan nodded. “But for your sake, I hope she does not have a child in nine months.”

Willas nodded fervently.

 

* * *

 

Willas was finding it hard to concentrate on his sums. It wasn’t just the quiet humming, or the rasp of cloth when she moved, or the way the sunlight on her bracelets was scattering light like spilled coins all over his paper. It was all of it. It was her.

He watched her, stomach swooping pleasantly as he eyed the easy grace with which she moved, so comfortable in his presence. She sat on the cushioned window ledge, her legs daintily tucked under her, bare feet just peeking out from under her skirts. She had started off brushing her hair, and now she braided it through with green and gold ribbons, to match her dress, her eyes. Her hair shone gold in the sunlight, skin seeming to glow.

Willas had thought he was too smart to fall for her tricks. Olenna had been wiser. He should have listened to her.

Cersei noticed his gaze as she bound up her braid. “Why do you stare?”

He couldn’t tell if she was amused, flattered, irritated… Her expression wasn’t blank, but it was inscrutable in its own way, her emotions impossible to identify, all blended together.

She was the loveliest creature he had ever seen, for so many reasons. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, and then blushed as she laughed.

“Thank you, husband,” she said, but he thought he heard the undercurrent of contempt in her tone. Likely she thought him to be just as inane as his father.

“Yes, beautiful,” he said. “And charming, and elegant, and poised…”

She looked like she was fighting a smirk.

“… and blank as a still pool,” Willas said.

Her brows snapped together. “What is that supposed to mean?” she said.

“I know nothing about you,” he said, and pushed himself up, limping to the window ledge. He sat across from her, looking deep into those green eyes. “If I asked you, would you tell me true?”

She pursed her lips. “Asked me what?”

“Asked you anything.”

Cersei shifted away, some discomfort rising in her frame. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged. “Is it so wrong to learn about my lady wife?”

She stared at him, evidently bewildered.

He frowned, now growing displeased himself. “I have been remiss in my duties, if I have given you the impression I am not interested in getting to know you,” he said quietly. “I am.”

What kind of husband had she expected to be? Was this common, for highborn ladies, to be so flustered at being made to feel interesting, important?

“Ask, then,” she said finally, her voice low and uncertain. “And I will answer.”

“Truthfully?” Willas asked.

He dared think Cersei smiled a little. “I think you’ll have to chance it.”

Willas leaned back. The air was feeling a little heavy for his tastes. He decided to start small. “Do you like horses?”

Startled, Cersei smiled. “Not overly.”

“Dogs?”

“Even less.”

“Hawks?”

Cersei paused. “I have never had a hawk,” she said. “I do not know how I would take to them.”

Willas nodded. He made a note in his mind. His first present to Cersei would be thus. “Do you like any animals?” he said, laughing.

“Lions,” Cersei said.

Willas laughed more.

“Shut up!” Cersei said, shoving his shoulder, but she was smiling. “Once a hunter caught a pair of lions - some of the last to be found in the Westerlands - and my father had them kept in a cage in the depths of the Rock. I touched one of them.” She smirked. “Jaime was too cravenly. But they were beautiful, and proud, and _fierce_. I should rather be a lioness of Casterly Rock than even a dragon of King’s Landing.” She toyed with the end of her braid, gaze distant.

Willas ached to kiss her in that moment. He swallowed the urge back. “What about a lioness of Highgarden?” he asked, trying not to sound nervous.

She looked at him, head tilted to the side. “Perhaps,” she allowed.

Willas fought to keep his face still, cursing how his heart thumped at that. “Cats?” he said. “A cat is just a smaller lion.”

“I do like cats,” she said with a smile.

Also good to know.

“Is that what you wanted to know about me, my Lord?” Cersei said, and she smirked when he winced his discomfort at the title. “My tastes on various animals?”

“To start,” Willas said, now committed to this. “Tell me what foods you like.”

Cersei thought for a moment. “Sweet things,” she said. “Lemon cakes and sherbet. Fruits - Dornish fruits. Pomegranates and mangoes.”

“Peaches?” Willas asked.

“Yes,” Cersei said.

“In the nursery, where I slept when I was young, there was a peach tree right outside the window,” Willas said. “You could reach outside and pluck one off the tree. I once ate myself sick while my nursemaid slept.”

Cersei laughed. “You must have been a sweet child,” she said. “Those dark curls.” She reached and pulled at one.

Willas pretended not to notice the way his heart raced at her proximity. “I was often mocked by the other children,” he said. “I had a dimple in my chin. How I longed for the day I could grow a beard and hide it from sight.”

She laughed again, and scooted closer so she could move her fingers over his beard, soft and curious. “As I said, a sweet child.”

“Not half so sweet as Garlan,” he said, enraptured by her touch, her interest. “He was a pudgy little boy. The little boys in the practice yard were merciless.”

“And now I expect he is equally merciless when he thrashes them with his wooden blade at practice,” Cersei said. “My brother admires his ferocity.”

Willas nodded. “I suppose. He is quite skilled, certainly… But he has little interest in glory. He fights only to protect those he loves.”

“Some would call that nobler yet,” Cersei said. “Though my brother is not one of them.”

“I would,” Willas said. “He is truly gallant, my brother. We are very close.”

Cersei drew away slightly, her face losing some of its easy smile. Willas scrambled to think - was she upset that he had hinted her brother’s gallantness was lesser than his own? Or were his words about being close to his brother striking her too close to the heart? Was she worried that he was drawing too near discovery of her own _very close_ relationship with Jaime?

In that moment, he didn’t care what she had done with Jaime, whether she had loved him, _did_ love him. It didn’t matter. She was here, with him, and that was enough.

“Tell me more about you,” he said, hoping to wipe that look from her face.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, again toying with the end of her braid, looking down at her fingers.

Willas hesitated. “Do you like to swim, and run, and climb?” he asked.

“I suppose,” she said. “Not half so much as the late Lady Lyanna, though. I am just as happy indoors.”

He nodded. “Do you admire men who fight as well as your brother, and mine?” He swallowed. “Does it disgust you that I can’t?”

Cersei leveled him with a long, thoughtful look. “Perhaps you forget,” she said, quietly, though not so quietly that he couldn’t detect a wry note in her voice, “but it was my brother who toppled a horse on your leg. What madwoman would I be to blame you for it?”

“But it bothers you,” he said. “To wed a cripple.” His throat felt very dry.

She looked up at him. She nodded. “It does.”

Willas had expected the answer, and had expected it to blow. But no amount of anticipation eased that sting. “I see,” he said quietly.

“But,” she said. “All men are broken.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Name me another man who I might have wed, in another life,” Cersei said. “Any of the multitudes.”

Willas thought for a moment. “Prince Stannis.”

Cersei snorted. “His soul - or his lack of one. He has no humor in him.”

“Lord Balon.”

“His heart. What a loveless wretch.”

Willas cast his mind about. “King Robert.”

Cersei laughed. “His cock. And he seeks to heal it in the cunt of every whore in Westeros.”

Willas was starting to smile. “Ser Arthur Dayne.”

“His bollocks,” Cersei said. “The Kingsguard are gelded, didn’t you know?”

“Prince Rhaegar,” Willas said.

Cersei’s smile wiped away. “His mind,” she said. “He was mad, to have done it.”

“He was,” Willas said. “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

Cersei tossed her hair. “His veins. They run with poison instead of blood.”

“You have as sharp a tongue as my grandmother,” Willas said to her, genuinely admiring.

“Unlike the Queen of Thorns, I will take that as a compliment,” Cersei said. “Do you see? All men are broken. I should rather have a man whose leg is damaged but whose heart, soul, mind and cock are hale than suffer any of those brutes.”

Willas hesitated. There was one name that he hadn’t spoken, though it stood poised at the tip of his tongue. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask how Jaime Lannister was broken - for, from what he had seen of him, there was no more perfect man to be found in the Seven Kingdoms.

He reached and played with the end of her braid. “And how do I know you mean that?” he asked, watching his fingers, the same way she had earlier.

She tipped his face up so he was forced to meet her eyes. “I expect you will have to chance it,” she murmured, and kissed him, slow but forceful, moving into him until he was forced to lie back against the cushions. He stared down at her, mouth open, as she moved her fingers down his chest, undoing the ties of his tunic.

“I…” he said.

“You fret so that I may be unhappy with you,” Cersei said, smiling. “Silly husband, they told me you were the smart one.”

She flipped her braid back over her shoulder so that it wouldn’t get in the way as she leaned in and undid the ties to his trousers. Looking up at him with a wicked smile, she drew out his cock. “Why would I wish myself into the bed of King Robert Baratheon and his broken cock? I have a husband with a perfectly good one right here.”

Then she sank her mouth down around him, sucking him, deep and wet and enveloping.

If this was her way of ending the conversation, it was a marvelous one, Willas thought.

 

* * *

 

Willas was deep in thought at his desk, looking out over the rose gardens, when a voice hailed him from the door.

“There is my lost grandson.” Olenna came inside, holding Margaery’s hand. “How long it has been since I have gazed upon his face.”

“Grandmother, I saw you yesterday,” Willas said. He held out his hands to Margaery, who giggled and came to him at a run, clambering up onto his lap and examining the objects on his desk solemnly.

“No, I saw _you_ yesterday,” Olenna said. “You haven’t seen anything but sheaves of hay stalks for a month, I would wager.”

Willas blinked at her. Then he sighed as recognition struck. “Grandmother…”

“But you would not say hay stalks, would you?” She settled onto the cushioned chair across from him. “You would say spun gold, I am sure. Let’s see that.” Nimbly, she reached over and lifted a half-buried sheet of parchment off the desk.

Willas scrambled for it, but she was too quick for him, and he groaned as she turned it towards herself. “Incredible likeness,” she said, smirking at him and looking up from the drawing. “She would appreciate it, I’m sure.”

“It’s not that good,” Willas muttered, leaning over and grabbing back the parchment.

“Cersei!” Margaery said, grabbing for the parchment and prodding at the image with her chubby hands. She smiled.

“Oh, shocking, my granddaughter also loves the sight of the lioness of Lannister,” Olenna said. “She has bewitched my Margaery just as she has bewitched you.”

Willas bowed his head, knowing better than to get baited into this discussion.

“Yes, perhaps it will be a blessing to have the lass here in Highgarden,” Olenna said, sighing. “Margaery could stand to learn from such an accomplished flirt. Your Cersei will teach her better than I ever could, how to win a man’s heart even when he knows better.”

Willas shifted uncomfortably. “If you have something to say, you can say it,” he said.

Olenna smiled, sharp as ever. “I don’t recall ever needing your permission to speak, my Lord. But now that you mention it…”

“I haven’t been bewitched,” Willas blurted out, starting Margaery, who nearly tumbled out of his lap in fright. He soothed her with gentle murmurs and kisses, then looked back up to Olenna. “I know her flaws, believe me. I know that she and her knightly brother have very likely been…” He swallowed.

Olenna said nothing. She raised her eyebrows.

“I know that she lies to protect herself, and to amuse herself, and that I cannot trust a word that comes out of her mouth.” Willas’ voice dropped. “I know that.”

“What has she told you?” Olenna’s voice was surprisingly gentle, so much so that Willas assumed he was walking into a trap. But when he looked up, there was a kindness in Olenna’s eyes that he did not often see.

He shifted again in even stronger discomfort. “She acted as though she prefers me to any other husband in Westeros, even the King. Even though she would be queen, and be near her Jaime, the two things she wants more than anything else in the world.”

Olenna nodded. “True.”

“She acted as though it doesn’t bother her that I am a cripple.” Willas pressed his lips together tightly. “Why does she lie, Grandmother? I am no threat to her. Why does she see the need to win my heart? It makes no difference to her if I -” He choked on the word. “Care for her.”

“Because toying with you is a game, darling,” Olenna said. “And your girl likes to get her way. As much as it pleases her to be wanted, it pleases her twice as much to have won.”

Willas rubbed his hand over his mouth.

Olenna patted the spot next to her on the sofa. “She owns you now. Would any girl turn that away?”

Willas carried Margaery to the sofa and sat next to Olenna, putting his head on her shoulder. “I have been good to her,” he said. “This isn’t fair.”

“I know, my darling,” Olenna said, kissing his hair. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Willas opened his eyes to a world of pain that swam before his eyes. He groaned.

Instantly, Cersei was there, clutching his left hand. He had never seen her look so wild-eyed. “You are mad, husband,” she said, trying to smile at him. “I had always taken you to be sensible, but…”

“What happened?” Willas’ voice emerged as a dry croak. She pressed a cup of heavily watered peach juice to his lips, and he drank it, coughing a little as he did.

“The horse was too wild for you,” she said. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”

Willas struggled to remember. “You were there,” he said finally. “You fought it off.”

“I was there, aye,” Cersei said slowly. She looked over him, and he turned his gaze with effort and found Maester Selwyn binding his wrist in a soaked fabric that would stiffen when it dried. “Is he delirious?”

“The milk of the poppy has that effect on some,” Maester Selwyn said. “In large quantities.”

“I was there,” Cersei said. “I was too far away to act, though.”

“No, you screamed,” Willas said, remembering. “When I fell. It startled it.”

Cersei nodded. “Yes.”

“If you hadn’t, it may have trampled me.” He frowned. “I may have died.”

Cersei’s lips tightened. “Don’t say such things,” she said.

“My death wouldn’t unchain you,” he said. “You would marry Garlan instead. But maybe you would prefer that.”

Her fingers tightened, now. She shot an uneasy glance at Maester Selwyn. “You are fearful, my Lord. You should sleep, you are not well.”

“He is too young for you,” Willas said. He could hear the words leave his mouth, but he put no thought into voicing them. “I think so, at least, do you think so? But he is gallant, and handsome. Most girls prefer him. Do you?”

“You need sleep,” Cersei said. Her gaze darted to the door.

“You wish to leave,” Willas said. He smiled with some effort. “You wish for me to stop talking. You are worried what I may say. But you are more worried about what I may say without you here to halt me.”

“My Lord, please,” Cersei said, swallowing, her face going tight and pale. “Sleep.”

He sensed that she would seek more forcefully to silence him had Maester Selwyn not been there. “Don’t wed Garlan,” Willas said. “Don’t hurt my brother.”

“Why would I hurt him?” Cersei said, startled.

“With enough gold, a man can buy anything,” Willas said. “Even a life.”

Cersei let out a long, slow breath. “Is your arm broken, or your mind?” she said, her face now turning an angry red. “Are you quite finished?” she snapped at Maester Selwyn.

“Yes, my Lady,” he said. He lingered at the foot of Willas’ bed. “I will need return later, to give him more milk of the poppy.”

“I think he’s had quite enough for the moment,” Cersei muttered.

Maester Selwyn left.

“I don’t think Lord Tywin would murder me or Garlan for no reason,” Willas assured her, enjoying this momentary lapse of composure that allowed him the freedom to say anything he wished. He wondered if it were the milk of the poppy still loosening his tongue, or if he merely couldn’t stop now that he had started. “There is no one more influential for you to wed.”

“You insult my father, and you insult me,” Cersei said. She released his hand at last, and stood, pacing to the window. He had to crane his neck to see her, the way she gripped the sill in her hands. “I will excuse your words, as you are ill with fever, but I would beg you to stop speaking now before you do me further offense.”

He nodded. “I don’t think you would prefer Garlan to me,” he offered. “Not truly. Neither of us can give you what you really want. Either is as good as the other.”

He wanted her to look at him, but she would not cooperate. Her gaze did not stray from the window. “And what do I really want, my Lord?” she said, quiet and toneless.

“A golden crown,” Willas said. “Two of them.”

Cersei smiled, and it was small and bitter and malformed, and still it was lovely. “Two? Am I so selfish that I would not settle for one?”

“Two,” Willas said. “One that Queen Elia owns, and one that you already wear.”

She looked at him, finally. There was fear in her eyes. “If I already wear this golden crown, why would I want another?”

He wished he could stop speaking. His words had a power that burned. “Yours doesn’t have curls.”

She stared at him. She trembled. “You have no proof,” she said, but the waver of her voice was proof enough. “No one would believe you.”

“Why would I seek to tell anyone?” Willas asked. “It makes no difference now. He didn’t give you a child. I am the only one who would care.”

 

* * *

 

The boys descended as soon right as Willas and Garlan passed the blacksmith’s shop.

“There he is!” Luthor said.

Leo checked his hip into Willas’, nearly sending him stumbling. “How long has it been, my Lord?”

Raymund’s hand clapped Willas’ shoulder while he was still looking over at Leo. “I suppose I can’t fault you for being distracted, but really, you’ll have to make it up to us.”

Garlan, traitor that he was, stood back and laughed as the three boys dragged Willas over to the nearby tavern and forced him down into a seat.

A tankard of ale was unceremoniously shoved into his hands. “Tell us everything,” Luthor said.

Willas smiled and took a swallow. “Everything about what?”

“Do not play the fool with us, lordling,” Raymund said threateningly. “Your lovely wife! Details, good man!”

“She is lovely, indeed, is that what you wished me to confirm?” Willas said, blinking at them. “Garlan can support my claim -”

Raymund smacked the back of his head. “I will not hesitate to sit on you and feed you dirt just because you are my liege lord. Tell us!”

“Do tell us,” Leo said pleadingly. “We have ached to hear from you, and you have been away in your castle for so long.”

“Really, I do not know what you wish for me to tell you,” Willas said.

“Start with her looks,” Luthor said. “Is she as lovely as the singers claim?”

Willas sighed.

“I like the sound of that,” Luthor said.

“Lovelier,” Willas said. “Beautiful and proud and fierce. She has the face of the Maiden, with the body of a Lysian whore. I have never seen her like.”

“Not even Ashara Dayne?” Leo breathed out, awed.

“Not even,” Willas said.

“I would agree,” Garlan said. “She is ravishing.”

“More, go on,” Leo said. “What is she like?”

“Proud,” Willas said, stuck for words. “Witty. Sharp. Funny. Brilliant. She makes me laugh.”

Garlan laughed. “Her tongue is as sharp as our grandmother’s, and she wields it as viciously.”

Raymund grinned. “I like the sound of _that_. So things are going well?”

Willas hesitated.

“Oh,” Luthor said, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

Willas looked down. He ran his finger over the rim of his mug. “I…”

“You can be honest with us,” Leo said. “You know we will not mock you.”

“I know,” Willas said. “She… I…” He looked helplessly at Garlan.

“If she liked him even a fraction as much as he likes her, he would be the happiest man in Westeros,” Garlan said quietly.

“Yes,” Willas said, throat dry. He took a long drink.

Raymund’s face went thunderous. “Why doesn’t she like you? Who would dislike you?”

“She is not unpleasant to me,” Willas said quickly. “She does not treat me cruelly. But she resents me, because I was forced on her after her brother broke my leg. She would rather be queen.”

“The good lass knows we already have a queen in the Red Keep, does she not?” Luthor said.

Willas and Garlan looked at each other. There was nothing that gold could not buy, Willas thought. Even a life.

“She knows,” Garlan said. “I believe it is more that she was never given the choice to be with him, than her resenting him because he kept her from any specific person….”

_Jaime_ , Willas thought, and knew Garlan was thinking the same thing.

“It has not been long since you were wed,” Leo said. “Perhaps she will change her mind with time. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

“She is not like other girls,” Willas said. “She is nothing like other girls.” He smiled ruefully. “She is a lioness.”

“He has it bad,” Raymund said.

“He does,” Garlan agreed.

“I do not want to make it sound as though I am unhappy,” Willas said quickly. “She is charming and bright and willful and I think the world of her – and she treats me well. She is sweet to me. But not… sincere. She says all the right words. She does not mean them.”

“Now you have got me depressed,” Luthor said, frowning. “I hope my own wife doesn’t resent me, when I am wed.”

“I don’t know how many married couples actually care for each other,” Garlan said. “I think Willas’ feelings are abnormal.”

Willas smiled ruefully. “I would agree. And at least there is one thing I know - she will be a good mother. I see her with Margaery and I cannot wait for her to have children of her own. Her babes will adore her.”

“That’s something,” Luthor agreed.

Willas sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps in time _I_ will change my mind, and decide that the only way to treat her is as other men treat their wives. I will always be good to her, but…” He shrugged. “Maybe what we have is enough.”

The boys were quiet.

Then, “And the coupling?” Raymund said. “Is that good, at least?”

Willas gave a groan, covering his face with his hands.

“That good?” Leo said.

“I have already said she has the body of a Lysian whore – need I go on?” Willas asked. “She is… She is…” He was going red, he could feel it. Just thinking about her, the way her hips moved with his, the fingernail scratches that he could still feel on his back, the _noises_ she made…

“My sense of hope is returning,” Luthor said, grinning. “That good.”

“That good,” Willas said. He shivered, thinking of her. “Better.”

Raymund sat back with a smile. “I like that,” he said. “That bodes well.”

“Let the poor boy be,” Garlan said, evidently finally taking pity on Willas. “I was dragging him to see the new Bravosi swords the sea merchants brought, but now that I have found you I will release my brother from this torment.”

“You are too kind,” Willas said. He flapped his hand. “Go. I will find you later.”

The boys leapt up, calling their goodbyes to Willas. Garlan lingered for a moment. “You are a good man, Willas,” he said, clasping his shoulder. “And your Cersei is no fool. She will recognize the value of that in time.”

“I hope so,” Willas said. He smiled, and Garlan grinned back before darting off with the boys, laughing and tussling in a way that Willas watched with true regret. He did not often think about his old life with longing, but sometimes…

He sighed and stood, dropping a few stars onto the table for the drink. He started to walk, slowly making his way back to the keep. After a few steps, he sped up, doing the peculiar hop-skip he had to use to move quickly.

There was a peasant girl walking in front of him, dressed in a homespun brown skirt and a white blouse, a cloth covering her hair. She had a lovely figure.

“Cersei,” Willas called.

The peasant girl stumbled. Then, after a long moment, she turned. “How did you know?” she asked.

Willas drew up beside her. He lifted a hand to tuck away an unruly golden curl that had escaped the headcover. “The way you move,” he said. “Every step a seduction. Did you hear all that?”

“Aye,” Cersei said. She was smiling, her green eyes bright, a pretty flush darkening her cheeks. “I did.”

Willas winced. He rubbed the back of his head, uncertain what to say.

Damn her for making him feel like this, he thought. He never knew where he stood with her. If he was too open and sensitive, she would disdain him for being weak. If he was too brusque, she would disdain him for being a brute.

But she had heard all of it. She knew well how weak for her he was.

“I hope you do not think I did you wrong by talking about you behind your back,” he finally said.

Cersei let out a melodic laugh. “You are a sweet boy,” she said. “You said nothing to insult me.” She took his sleeve and tugged him into a side street, where they were not blocking the path or drawing anyone’s eye. “I do agree with all that you said, but it was nice to hear you say it. I am sharp-tongued, and beautiful, and the coupling is…” She bit her lip, looking up at him with those damnably bright eyes.

“Yes,” Willas breathed out.

“And I will be a good mother,” Cersei whispered. “I promise you, I will.”

“I know you will,” Willas said, touching her cheek.

She did not say the next part, but he knew what she was thinking. She did resent him. They both knew it, even if the words were never spoken.

Her gaze dropped. “It is… good to know what you really think of me.”

“I have never lied about how I feel about you,” he said, and he didn’t mean for it to be an accusation, but her eyes turned flinty.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But you never said, either.”

Willas opened his mouth, then paused. “I…”

“You act as though you have been gushing your feelings from every tower of the keep, but I have never heard any words of affection from you,” Cersei said, hands on her hips. “Even when you were delirious from milk of the poppy, you never said that you cared for me - all that you did is accuse me of conspiring to do you harm to escape our marriage, and of treasonous thoughts regarding our queen and king.”

Willas bit his lip. “I suppose I thought it was obvious from the way I treat you…”

“How was I to know if that was sincere?” she asked. “You would treat any woman well, any wife. I know you. Your gentleness to me is not from love.” She rested her hand on his chest. “You are kind to your very core. You could not treat me poorly if you wanted to.”

“I… Yes,” he said. “Yes, that is true.”

“You accuse me of saying the right words without meaning them,” Cersei said. “Well, my Lord, if you mean them true, you will have to speak them aloud.”

He swallowed.

She watched him, expectant, stone-faced.

“How do I know this is not all just the same game to you?” he asked quietly. “That you are not playing me for the fool, the way you always planned to? Laughing at me for my weakness, thinking of me as easy prey…”

Cersei sighed. “I expect you will have to chance it,” she said, just as quietly. She slid her hand up his chest to his face, curling it over his jaw.

Willas rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“Willas…”

Outside of coupling, she had never spoken his name before. If he was her prey, so be it. He would walk willingly into the jaws of this lioness.

“I love you,” he said. He kissed her forehead. “I love you, and I would rather have you than any lady in Westeros. If you cannot forgive me for being a lord and not a king, I will accept that, and we will live as rote husband and wife. But I will love you all the same.”

She looked up at him with wonder in her eyes. She was as lovely as he had ever seen her.

“You speak of the broken men you would otherwise have wed,” Willas said, and he took her hand. “And how you preferred me to them. But I hate to say, I am no better than any of them. Balon Greyjoy may have a broken heart, and Rhaegar a broken mind - well, my heart and mind may be hale, but they are not mine own to boast. You have won me, body and soul.”

He was too nervous to meet her eye after that statement. But she tipped his face up herself, and caught his lips in a kiss as he had never been kissed before. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her flush against him, and she pressed against him with a hunger that set his blood ablaze.

Cersei opened her mouth to his, teeth scraping against his lower lip, kissing him deep and slick. His cock filled so quickly his head spun, and he breathed raggedly against her lips, his whole body going hot and tingling with sensation.

"Cersei," he said, and he backed her against the wall they were next to. She whined and tried to hitch her leg around his, her skirts tangling around them both.

“Willas,” she sighed. She twined her fingers in his hair, trembling against him, mouth opening to his as he devoured her, and she devoured him in return.

He lost himself in her curves, in her warmth, in the way she clutched him against her like she couldn’t bear the thought of being separated. When he heard a voice calling his name from nearby, tearing away from her lips was nearly physically painful.

“Willas!” the voice repeated.

Willas pulled away from her reluctantly, though the glaze to her eyes and the redness of her lips was calling him back like siren’s song. “What?” he said, rather more snappish than he intended. He turned.

Garlan and the three lads had returned sometime when Willas had been too occupied to notice. The three boys were gawking and wide-eyed, but Garlan looked angry.

“When you said you were thinking about treating your wife as other men do their wives, I did not think you meant as King Robert treats his,” Raymund said. “This is not like you.”

Willas looked at Cersei, who covered her mouth to hide her smile. Oh. He laughed and pulled her out into the open, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Garlan blinked when he saw her, the anger clearing from his eyes. He laughed as well. “I see,” he said.

“Lads,” Willas said. “Meet my wife, the Lioness of Casterly Rock, Lady Cersei.”

“Oh,” Leo said. He eyed her with open curiosity. “What are you doing dressed like that?”

Cersei pulled off her hair wrap, her golden curls spilling out and cascading over her shoulders. She curtseyed. “I was seeking to escape embroidering with some of the ladies, and my brother’s nameday approaches, so I thought to come to town to seek out a gift for him. I did not realize I would find my husband here.”

“You certainly found him,” Garlan said, grinning. “Should we leave you two alone to… find each other further?”

Willas blushed, but Cersei laughed and took his hand. “If you would be so kind? I should like to spend some time together outside of that keep, away from his work.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Garlan said.

“Do not cause too much of a scene, my Lord,” Raymund said, smirking. “Your father would not be pleased to hear of you… finding each other in public.”

Willas blushed harder.

 

* * *

 

Willas lifted away a low-hanging branch as he led them through the orchard, holding it aloft so Cersei could walk under it unhindered. As he let it drop, he pulled two peaches off, sending the branch springing back. He offered one to Cersei, who took it and thanked him with a pretty smile.

“When we spoke before, when you asked me about myself,” she said, brushing away the downy covering on the peach with her sleeve, “I feel I was unfair to you.”

“How so?” Willas asked, taking a bite.

“You asked about me, and offered freely about yourself,” Cersei said. “I did neither.”

Willas smoothed his thumb over her lower lip. “You need only be as forthright as you like. I will not force the words from you.”

“I want to,” Cersei said, and caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

His heart thumped. “I suppose I will allow it,” he said, affecting a lofty tone.

She took a bite from her peach, licking the juice off her lips as they made their way through the garden. “I do not think a scholarly nature is a weakness,” she said. “I once loved Prince Rhaegar, or thought I did.”

“You and most other ladies in Westeros,” Willas said.

She half-smiled. “He was everything a highborn girl could dream of. Beautiful, and powerful, and as gifted with his harp as his lance.”

“And mad,” Willas said.

“And mad,” she agreed. “My brother loves to fight, and I do not fault him for it, but I would not respect my husband any more if he went clubbing his way through every tourney in Westeros. You see?”

“I see,” he said, and he smiled and kissed her, their lips both sticky with peach juice.

She wove their fingers together. “I used to envy him, though. Jaime, I mean. Not because I wished to fight - but because I wished to be _allowed_ to fight. I would be sitting inside embroidering and learning my lessons, and he would be laughing and tussling outside, and it was encouraged!” Her lip curled.

Willas said nothing, but he squeezed her hand.

“And Casterly Rock was rightfully his, even though I was older,” Cersei said. “People respect him, people trust him, people listen to him. My only power comes from that of my husband. So I pledged to be queen. If all the power a maiden has comes from her cunt, my cunt was going to be the most valuable in Westeros.” She tossed her hair.

“But then Prince Rhaegar wed Elia Martell,” Willas said.

Contempt flashed across Cersei’s face. “Yes,” she said. “He did. And then he abducted that wolf girl, the Gods know why. He truly was mad.”

Willas kissed her hair. “Indeed.”

“I did not grieve his death,” Cersei said. “I was ready for another man to take the throne - my new husband. But Elia Martell survived, and Jon Arryn counseled Robert to wed her, to keep Dorne as an ally. And who was I to marry then? Stannis? Edmure Tully?” She sneered. “A brute and a dimwit.”

“Willas Tyrell?” Willas said. “A boy cripple with a fat coward for a father.”

Cersei smiled. “All true,” she said. “Without Rhaegar’s silver hair or purple eyes, and without Robert’s crown. Hardly worthy of the Lioness of Casterly Rock at all.” She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He could get drunk from this, he thought.

“Cersei,” he murmured against her lips. He had not spoken her name either, before now. He found that it was growing difficult to bite it back.

They walked to the pond, and she kicked off her beaded slippers and sat on a flat stone, dipping her toes into the water. “But you have not asked me, my Lord. The question that must be burning on your tongue…”

He let out a long breath. “I did not want to be lied to.”

“I will not lie,” she said.

Willas sat next to her. “Jaime,” he said. “Tell me about Jaime.”

Cersei trailed her fingers in the pond, making ripples. “What is there to say? I have loved him for as long as I can remember. He is part of me.” She smiled wryly. “I thought his squireship at Crakehall was the longest separation we would have to bear. After all, I was to marry Rhaegar, and we would both be at court, and…”

“You persuaded him to join the Kingsguard,” Willas said, realization striking him.

She nodded. “But then my father took me from King’s Landing when he resigned as Hand. And Elia Martell survived Robert’s Rebellion, and Jaime injured you, and…” She gave a helpless gesture. “Being apart from him is like having my soul ripped in two.”

He swallowed. She spoke frankly, without rancor - which was somehow worse than the alternative. “Oh,” he said. “Then I…”

She looked up at him, her golden curls blowing into her face from the light wind. “You are complicating matters, I suppose. I need Jaime like I need my limbs. You are… my husband. You are more. You are different.”

“Is different bad?” he asked softly.

Cersei shrugged. “I do not hate it here the way I thought I would. I enjoy your company. I desire you. I…” She swallowed.

“You don’t need to say it,” he said.

She half-smiled. “But Jaime is… You cannot keep me from loving him. If I saw him again, and you prevented me from going to him, you would learn to regret it.”

“I understand.” Willas scratched at the flat stone with the pointy end of his peach pit.

Cersei inched closer, so smoothly he barely noticed she was moving until she was half in his arms. “Oh, Willas,” she said. “You are not the only one whose heart has been stolen.”

He looked up at her, and she kissed him softly.

He rolled over her, bracing his weight on his arms on either side of her body. The image of her on her back on the flat white stone, tousled hair a halo around her head, would have captivated him, had he been able to draw away from her lips long enough to appreciate it. Alas.

 

* * *

 

Willas caught sight of Garlan peeking his head into the room, and he sat straight up, tipping his head to the side in question. Garlan nodded.

“Cersei,” Willas said. “I have something for you.”

Cersei looked up, and Margaery did as well, looking put out to have been interrupted.

“Mother, can you take Margaery?” Willas said.

“Margy, come here, sweetness,” Alerie said, holding out her arms.

Margaery slid neatly off Cersei’s lap and went to go cuddle up with Alerie.

“You look very smug,” Cersei said suspiciously. “So sure you have gotten me a perfect gift?”

“So very sure,” Willas said. “But if you do not want it, I’m sure I could find someone else to take it off your hands.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s see it, then,” she said.

“Garlan,” Willas said, gesturing for him to enter.

He came inside, cradling a wriggling lump in his arms, swaddled in a red cloth.

“Kitten?” Margaery said, clapping her tiny hands together.

“Not quite,” Willas said.

“A pup?” Alerie said, holding Margaery with one hand and leaning in to see.

Willas smiled.

Garlan deposited the mound into Cersei’s lap. Looking curious, Cersei unwound the red cloth. Then she gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth.

Garlan and Willas traded smug smiles over her head.

“Oh, the Gods,” Cersei said, overcome. “Willas, you…” She looked up at him.

“So should I give him away?” Willas said. “I am quite sure Garlan would not mind…”

Cersei scowled at him. “No, he’s mine.” She peeled away the red cloth entirely and lifted the lion cub to her breast, cradling him close.

“Oh!” Alerie said.

“Oh my,” Olenna said.

“He’s darling,” Cersei murmured. She stroked the lion cub behind the ears. “Oh, you are perfect, little one. You are precious.”

“Willas,” Mace said.

Willas could not even pretend to feel guilty. “Father, he’s quite tame. They raise them as pets in Volantis - he is five generations domesticated. He won’t hurt anyone.”

“What is it?” Margaery said, looking around with an open mouth.

“He’s a lion,” Cersei said. “My lion of Highgarden.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head, kissing it gently.

 

 


End file.
